


Everyday Horrors, Starring Basement Hook and fr--Criminal Accomplices

by eerian_sadow



Series: Cannibal Shrapnel and Basement Hook [6]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Cannibalism, Execution, Eye Gouging, Genital Torture, Gore, Impalement, Mentions of Necrophilia, On-screen character death, Other, Shrapnel is his own warning, Skull Fucking, Snuff, Spark Play, Torture, Vortex is his own warning, basement hook is his own warning, dismembered bodies, hook's creepy enabling brothers, non-sexual romance, vortex's creepily enabling teammates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-07
Updated: 2017-07-05
Packaged: 2018-05-12 10:53:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 5,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5663593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eerian_sadow/pseuds/eerian_sadow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Daily life with Hook can be horrifically weird. Or just horrific.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Scavenger

**Author's Note:**

> This is a series of stories too long to be drabbles or microfics, starring my creepy necrophiliac version of Hook and assorted accomplices (or victims.) Each chapter will be a scene or two of slice-of-life moments with a specific character or two. (Or more, but based on the same theme.) Tags and characters will be updated as things progress.
> 
>  
> 
> I cannot stress how fucked up this is going to get. People will be mutilated and die, and then be eaten or have their corpses copulated with. Turn back now if things like that are going to bother you. This is your only warning. (Or enticement, if we're riding the same bus.)

1\. For a moment, Hook was confused as he approached his private quarters. There was a huge pink blotch on the door that had _not_ been there when he left for his shift. 

When he was a few steps closer, he could tell there were bright yellow glyphs on top of the pink. Another few steps made them readable.

_**Hook’s Dollhouse. Keep out if you know what's good for you.** _

The medic felt a flash of irritation at the defacement of his door, followed by annoyance at Scavenger (they were companions, not dolls!) and then a touch of affection for the youngest Constructicon. Scavenger had probably caught someone trying to break in, and was attempting to protect the army from itself.

Really, though, he hoped he caught Swindle the next time the Combaticon had the bright idea to steal from him. The tan mech’s offline frame, impaled from valve to mouth on a titanium pole and set outside his door would be the best warning of all--both to the idiots he repaired and the command staff who constantly abused and undervalued the Constructicons. 

 

2\. (Prompt “Pretty Trinkets”)  
“I hope you like it.” Scavenger was vibrating with excitement, armor rattling and tail swishing back and forth.

Hook stared at the box on the medbay table, resigned to whatever ridiculous nicknack the other Construction had dug up for him this week. He was certain that the younger mech was just trying to stay on his good side--a reasonable plan, given how mechs on his bad side often ended up--but he was often more annoying than ingratiating.

With a sigh, the medic reached for the bright blue bow holding the box together. It fell apart like something from one of the cartoons Scavenger insisted on watching, revealing a pile of armor plating, fluid tubing and a proudly erect spike decorated with a jeweled piercing and a matching spike ring snugged up to the base of the pelvic plate it was attached to. The rest of the bot was nowhere to be seen. 

Hook felt his valve lubricate at the sight of it.

“I know it’s not what you usually go for, but I thought maybe--”

“Scavenger, hush.” The elder Constructicon reached out and ran a reverent finger along the spike, feeling a line of modified sensors under the surface plating that would be blissful in his valve. “It’s perfect.”


	2. Shrapnel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For being as horrible and crazy as they are, these two are kind of cute together.

(Prompt “Late Night Snack”)  
Hook came online to the sound of a timid tapping at his door. He glared at the portal for a long moment, as if the door was the source of the irritating sound, and then pulled himself wearily out of his berth. He had been online well over four local day cycles, and he was not inclined to be even remotely charitable to whoever was disturbing his rest.

“What.” He glared as the door slid open to reveal Shrapnel.

“Sorry, sorry.” The Insecticon had the grace to look guilty. “I know you need recharge-arge. It’s just, just…”

“Just what?” Hook’s irritation spiked as he stared at the only mech among the Decepticons he dared call a friend.

“I’m hungry, hungry.” Shrapnel ducked his head down in embarrassment. “And Lord Megatron doesn’t keep food for us here, here.”

“For pity’s sake.” Hook’s frown was still irritated, but it was less directed at the Insecticon. “Only a short-sighted fool like Megatron would fail to adequately fuel his own troops. I suppose you tried energon already?”

Shrapnel nodded as Hook stood aside to let the mech into his sanctuary. “My ration wasn’t enough, enough.”

“Very well.” The Construction locked the door behind his friend and stepped over to a storage crate. “These are supposed to be for repairing my companions, but I suppose they can be sacrificed to the greater good.”

“Thank you, you.” Shrapnel bounced just slightly as Hook pulled out a bag of parts--fingers and bolts mostly, and held it out. “You’re the best, best.”

“Just keep the noise down. I’m going back to recharge.”

“Can I recharge in your berth when I’m done, done?”

Hook hesitated for a klik; that was the most forward Shrapnel had ever been with him. But the other mech hadn’t asked to recharge _with him_ , and that was an important distinction. “You may _only_ recharge.”

“I know, know.” Shrapnel stepped close enough to briefly butt his head affectionately against the Constructicon’s. “Now rest, rest. Megatron has plans, plans.”


	3. Vortex and Smokescreen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With appearances by Onslaught and Shrapnel.

1\. “Hey, Hook. Got a present for you.”

The Constructicon didn’t even look up when the Combaticon spoke. “I find it vanishingly unlikely that you would bring me anything of value, Vortex.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that.” The flier unceremoniously dumped an offline blue and yellow Praxian on his work table.

Hook glared and fished his pad of schematics out from under the unconscious mech. “What do you think I am going to do with an _Autobot_?”

“Well, aside from what you always do to Autobots, you’ll get back at Swindle for breaking into your playroom and stealing that minbot corpse.” Vortex shrugged. “But if you don’t want his little boyfriend, I’ll send him back to Prime.”

The purple and green mech felt his anger flare at the mention of Swindle’s theft; he had yet to be able to provide enough proof to Megatron that Swindle was the culprit and the tan mech had yet to be properly punished. 

“What do you say, Hook?”

“What, precisely is in it for you?”

Vortex laughed, a slightly manic sound that set his processor on edge. The Combaticon was clearly far from sane. “Aside from him getting us thrown in prison? There’s the whole “selling us for parts” bit, and the fact that I’ve wanted to pull his spark out of his chest since the day I met him. I _hate_ Swindle.”

“I see.” Crazy or not, at least the flier’s motivation was understandable. If anything, Vortex likely owed Swindle a larger helping of payback than Hook. “And you say he has been fraternizing with this Autobot?”

Vortex nodded.

“I had a plan for what I would do to Swindle if I ever caught him stealing from me again. I think it will do just as well for his lover.”

The Combaticon’s rotor blades twitched upward with interest. “Can I help?”

 

2\. Hook had watched with interest as Vortex disabled the Autobot’s motor functions with surgical precision. What he would have done with programming patches and neural blocks, the Combaticon did with a few careful wire snips that didn't even leave Swindle’s lover looking damaged.

He was impressed, though he would never tell Vortex such a thing.

Then they had bound the mech’s arms and legs, tying him in a parody of bondage play with his arms behind his back and his feet pressed to the backs of his thighs. Without his pain sensors disabled, the position would be excruciating within an hour or so--long before the titanium pole would begin doing real damage.

The last step was to tip the Autobot’s head back in the perfect position to allow the pole to exit his body through his mouth, completing the image--and example--Hook fantasized about. Then they froze his neck joints in place by fusing the back of the Praxian’s head to his shoulder blades with a welding torch.

It wasn't elegant, but Vortex had enjoyed the procedure. The Constructicon knew he could smooth down the weld line before he propped the Autobot up among his other companions.

“Can I wake him up?” Vortex asked, sounding giddy.

“You may,” Hook replied. “I want to see his face when he realizes the punishment his lover has brought on him.”

“Goody.” The flier’s strange glee was infectious, and the green and purple mech was surprised to feel his spark pulse with excitement as Vortex plugged into the Autobot’s medical port. “Wakey, wakey pretty bot.”

After a few seconds the Autobot’s optics flicked online and the Combaticon unplugged his connecting cable. “Swin?”

“Nope,” Vortex replied with a cackle.

“Oh, Tex. Hey.” The blue and yellow mech tried to lean his head forward, and his optics went wide I think shock when he didn't move. “Why can't I move? What did you do?”

“Oh nothing much.” The flier cackled again. “Just gave you to Hook to add to his collection. Swindle owes him a corpse.”

“More than one,” Hook corrected. “You are going to become an example of why he should stop antagonizing me.”

“Look, whatever he did, I can pay you back for.” The Autobot’s jaw worked as he tried to think of a way to bargain his way out of his punishment. “You want bodies? We’ve got three, maybe four in medbay. Bots that didn't survive stasis.”

“That won't do,” the Constructicon replied. “Because Swindle will not learn the error of his ways. You will be a living, and dying, example to him.”

“Oh, Primus, please don't.” The Autobot’s voice cracked at the end of his plea.

“And after you have deactivated, I will take my pleasure from you. Over and over, until I can replace you with Swindle himself.” Hook shivered slightly at the thought. The Autobot’s valve would be a ruined mess, but his spike would be quite enjoyable. 

“Please don't,” the Autobot begged again.

“You’re not getting out of it, Smokes.” Vortex reached out and tugged the Autobot’s interface panel open. “It was nice knowing you.”

The Autobot began begging again, babble that Hook tuned out as he reached for the titanium pole. Briefly, he wondered if he should add lubricant to facilitate a faster initial slide, but decided against it. He wanted this to last as long as possible. 

The Autobot’s begging cut off abruptly as he touched the rounded tip of the pole to the blue and yellow mech’s valve. “Vortex, extend his spike, please. I want to think of the pleasure I will have every time I see this Autobot’s frame.”

“You got it.” Vortex reached for the Praxian’s recessed spike and teased it out carefully. He groaned as he stroked the Autobot to full extension. “This is absolutely the only thing I'll miss about you. You're fantastic in the berth when you're strung out on one of Swindle’s cocktails.”

Before Vortex could bring the Autobot to completion and make a mess of his work table, Hook slid the rod into the Autobot’s valve. 

The blue mech howled at the violation. 

“Help me hold him up,” Hook ordered as the Autobot’s screams faded into sobs. “We will need him to be vertical if he is to be impaled properly. I have a weighted base for his display.”

“Primus, no,” the Autobot whimpered as Vortex lifted him up. 

A moment later, as he was dropped down so that the pole snapped into the base, the blue mech shrieked at a volume likely heard on the command deck. The sound was music to Hook’s audio receptors. 

 

6\. “What are you doing?”

Vortex twitched his rotors in a greeting as he towed the hoversled toward Hook’s quarters while the medic monitored the vital signs of his new display--it wouldn’t for the Autobot to deactivate before Swindle had even seen him--and walked alongside. “Hey, Ons! We’re engaging in team bonding activities!”

Onslaught looked from the flier to the medic and back. “Hook is not a part of your team.”

“Interpersonal bonding then.” Vortex sounded cheerful for the first time the Constructicon could remember hearing. “I’m making _friends_ , Ons. I thought you said we should try harder to get along with the other gestalt teams.”

“We should.” The Combaticon leader looked at the display in time to see the first trickle of energon drip from the Autobot’s valve and run down the pole. “This is not precisely what I had in mind. Is that Smokescreen?”

The Autobot groaned at the sound of his name, and Hook contemplated deactivating what remained of his vocalizer after all the screaming he had done. The flier giggled. “Yep! Quid pro quo, as the humans say. Swindle owed Hook big time.”

Onslaught’s posture shifted at the mention of the arms dealer. “So he did. I hope this makes our teams even?”

The medic nodded as the Combaticon leader’s gaze shifted to him. “My quarrel was never with your team, only with Swindle personally. Vortex has repaid the debt more than sufficiently.”

“Good.” Onslaught started walking toward his destination again. “If you install your ...display in the hallway, I will ensure that Swindle sees the consequences of his poor decision making later today.”

Hook _liked_ the sound of that. “Of course we will. Vortex, do you have a camera in your subspace compartment? I believe we will enjoy watching his reaction _repeatedly_.”

“I like the way you think, Hook,” the flier replied.

 

3\. The Autobot was on display for three local days before Shrapnel had a chance to see Hook’s new display, though the medic had told him about it in loving detail over their evening rations the night he and Vortex had installed it. Now, Hook was eager to know what his friend thought of the dying mech being slowly impaled outside his door.

“It’s interesting-ing,” Shrapnel said, peering at the Autobot critically. “I can see Vortex’s work in a few places, places, but I like the contrast to the others you have, have.”

“Yes?” The medic perked up happily.

“Yes, yes,” The Insecticon replied. Then he reached up and touched the Autobot’s glossa where it protruded from the mech’s open mouth. “Except for this, this. It’s ugly, ugly.”

“Yes, well. His cooling systems forced it out to provide maximum surface area for exchange this morning. The fans in his abdomen have been destroyed by the pole by now.” Hook reached out and rubbed a hand over the Autobot’s abdominal plating, just able to feel a few of the internal mechanisms that had been destroyed by unforgiving titanium. “It will be easy enough to force back inside once he’s permanently offline.”

The Autobot groaned weakly at the reminder of his impending demise.

“Sure, sure,” Shrapnel replied, stroking the glossa thoughtfully. “But I could fix it now, now. And then it won’t be in your way later, later, when the pole comes out his mouth, mouth.”

“And by fix, do you mean eat, my dear?”

“Of course, course. Glossas taste so good, good.”

The purple and green mech gave his friend an indulgent smile. “I suppose I can allow you to modify my display and have a snack.”

“Thank you, you.” Shrapnel grinned brightly. Then he leaned forward and opened his mouth.

Hook could just barely see the black and purple mech’s glossa dart out to wrap around the Autobot’s before the Insecticon pressed his lips to the blue and yellow mech’s in mockery of an affectionate kiss. He might have believed that Shrapnel was exchanging genuine pleasure with the other mech if not for the muffled sobs of pain and the grinding of metal plates that had been modified to cut through metal plating.

He knew when Shrapnel yanked the glossa completely out of the Autobot’s head when blue plating convulsed involuntarily and several internals _crunched_. A fresh wave of energon dribbled down the pole and the Autobot slid noticeably further down the titanium as the Insecticon pulled away, chewing his snack and shuddering with pleasure.

“Good?” Hook asked.

“So good, good. I almost wish there were two of him, him.” Shrapnel smiled at him, lips stained with energon and oral lubricants. “I haven’t overloaded like that in a while, while.”

“I’m glad you enjoyed yourself.” Hook turned his attention back to his display for a moment, taking in the changes now that Shrapnel had had his fun. 

A soft, constant whine emitted from the Autobot’s broken vocalizer and pink-tinted fluid dripped from the corners of his optics. But the most enticing part was the way the mech’s plating was starting to turn grey at the edges.

With a smile, Hook began making plans to camp out in the hallway to watch the other mech die. The Autobot wouldn’t last more than a day or two more, now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> He's probably dead. I'm sorry.


	4. Unnamed Decepticon

"Did you ever wonder," Hook caressed the mech strapped down to his medical berth, fingers teasing into a leg seam before moving up to the mech's codpiece, "How you would die?"

"N-no." The other Decepticon tried to squirm away from the Construction's touch, but Hook had him strapped down securely. "W-why am I here, sir?"

"Why, to be a part of my experiment." Without warning, Hook pried his fingers over the edge of the mech's codpiece and ripped the armor off. Then he moved his fingers to his captive's recessed spike as the other mech screamed. "Shrapnel, you see, thinks that I might enjoy a living partner if interfacing deactivates them."

"What?" The Decepticon's voice turned panicked and he tried desperately to squirm away again. 

Unperturbed, Hook continued teasing at the spike until his captive's involuntary systems began pressurizing the appendage. "This, you see, is how you die. Proving or disproving his theory, with my spike embedded in your spark."


	5. Rewind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS IS WHERE YOU NEED TO MIND THOSE UPDATED TAGS. It's okay if you gotta nope out.

The pop and crackle of optic glass under his thumb was oddly satisfying, as was the small mech’s whimper of pain. He repeated the action a moment later, drawing a single sob out of the recordicon in his hands.

“Remember,” Hook said darkly, “Our deal.”

“I remember,” Rewind whispered softly, voice ragged. “I won’t fight you.”

“Very good, little Autobot.” The Constructicon moved one hand from the side of his victim’s face down to his chest plates. “This will be mildly less painful if you open willingly.”

Rewind turned his face toward the bench Blaster was stretched out on, seeking what little comfort he could despite his now-sightless optics. After a few seconds, there was a soft click as the recordicon’s chest plates unlocked and they spread open slightly.

For a moment, Hook wished the deployer was online to see Rewind’s shattered visor and gouged out optics. Though, their deal would likely have never been stuck if the red mech wasn’t offline from the damage he had sustained during capture and interrogation.

“Do not touch me,” the green and purple mech reminded his victim. “Or you both die.”

“I won’t,” the black mech told him. Energon and optic lubricant were building up in the small mech’s optic sockets, giving the illusion that he was about to cry, even though Hook had destroyed the mechanisms that would have enabled such a response.

His spike hardened behind his panel at the sight, surprising the medic with how much he liked it. He _wanted_ to see the fluids reach the edge of Rewind’s optic socket and then run down in a gory mess. 

“It will please me greatly if you cry out when it hurts.” Hook used his thumb and fingers to spread the recordicon’s chest plates open, then he reached in and caressed the small spark chamber inside. “And more you please me, the more mercy I will show your host.”

“I know.” The medic could hear the sound of ruined optic shutters trying to close and the first drips of energon sloshed over the edge of the black mech’s optic socket. Then the thin plate of protective metal covering Rewind’s spark split in two and retracted to cover the surrounding parts.

Hook let his pelvic plating retract and expose his spike. Then he shifted both his hands so that he was holding the Autobot by the chest, thumbs hooked around the edges of the black chest plates to hold them open. The last thing he wanted was to have the autonomic systems try to snap them closed when the recordicon’s systems began registering spark damage.

Once he had a good grip on the black mech, he pulled the small frame forward and lined the Autobot’s spark chamber up with the tip of his spike. Then he thrust his hips forward.

Rewind screamed as Hook’s spike slid into his sparkmass, the energy being displaced from its housing and crackling across the Constructicon’s pleasure sensors before dissipating into the air or being absorbed by Hook’s own systems. The purple and green mech surprised himself by groaning along with the small mech’s screams as his senses were assaulted by the tightness of the spark chamber and the heady rush of energy.

He drew back, tendrils of spark energy following clinging to his spike as he drew away. The medic admired the view of the Autobot’s evaporating life essence sheathing his spike in crackling blue energy. Then he thrust forward again, hips clanging into his own hands and spike punching through the back of Rewind’s spark chamber.

The black mech screamed again, systems overloading involuntarily in an effort to re-ignite his spark. Energon and optic lubricant flowed down his face like bloody tears. Hook drew back and thrust again, drawing another small overload out of the Autobot's irreparably damaged body and forcing spark energy out into Rewind’s chest cavity. Energy flowed from the tiny mech’s body up through Hook’s spike and into his own systems.

Hook kept thrusting as he stared at the small mech’s fading life energy. He could see the Autobot’s spark casing bending under the onslaught of thrusts, and the black plating under his hands starting to fade into the grey of death.

Rewind cried out one last time as his laser core flared in a final effort to reignite his spark, and his hands flew up to Hook’s arms in reflex. The overload the Constructicon had been working toward was briefly interrupted by the unwelcome touch, but it gave him a moment to enjoy the sight of the recordicon fading from vibrant black and gold into sickly grey.

When the recordicon was completely grey and the last trickles of energy had stopped crackling over dead circuits, he drew his spike out of the ruined spark casing. Then he moved one hand to Rewind’s head to hold it steady and the other to his spike. Carefully, he guided the tip of his spike up through the trail of energon and optic lubricant staining the small mech’s face. He allowed the substance to gather thoroughly on the tip and then carefully guided the spike to one of the broken optic sockets.

Hook groaned loudly as he slid his spike into the socket. He had never tried this before, and the danger of the broken optic glass paired with the feeling of bent and broken sensors was an experience had hadn’t quite been prepared for.

The medic overloaded after only a few thrusts, excitement and lingering charge from Rewind’s death shortening pleasure he would have usually dragged out as long as possible. He pulled out as the transfluid spurted from the end of his spike, leaving a silvery mess in the socket and down the recordicon’s faceplate.

Then he dropped Rewind’s body to the floor in a heap and turned to the guard standing outside the cell. “I’m finished here.”

“You’re not going to repair the big one?” the guard asked.

“No. The little one broke our deal by touching me.” The green and purple mech smirked. “Leave his body there for his host to find, and call me when he’s close to offlining. I want to claim this one before Soundwave can send him back to the Autobots.”

“Yes, sir,” the guard replied. He lowered the energy barrier and let Hook out of the cell, visibly shuddering as the medic walked past him.


	6. Shrapnel II

Hook lay on his abdomen, looking over a data pad full of Scrapper’s designs and making notes in the margins from time to time--or translating Scrapper’s shorthand into something they could all understand. Shrapnel lay perpendicular to him, with his head pillowed on the medic’s back as he slowly chewed his way through a pile of armor plating too damaged to be useful in the medbay.

It surprised him how pleasant the arrangement was, especially given how little he liked being touched, and he wondered exactly when he and the Insecticon had become so comfortable with each other. 

“What are you working on, on?” Shrapnel asked, rolling over to peer over the medic’s shoulder.

“A new schematic of Scrapper’s. He wanted me to add notes for what I want to see when we’re finally allowed a base above the water.” Hook held the data pad up a few inches so that his… he didn't know what to call the purple and black mech now. Companion made Shrapnel sound like the deactivated mechs in his playroom, and partner was much too intimate. “This is hardly a final design, but it is a starting point.”

“Scavenger will need a bigger warehouse to begin with, with.” Hook could hear the grin in the Insecticon’s voice. 

“So he will, which I noted right away.” The medic gestured to the appropriate glyphs with his stylus. “We will also need a place for your hive when you visit. It is uncivilized for us to force you to recharge outdoors when we will have space for several platoons at our disposal.”

Shrapnel sat up abruptly and turned so that he was looking Hook directly in the face. “You want us to stay with you, you?”

The purple and green mech wasn’t entirely sure what to make of the reaction. “Since I refuse to sleep in the dirt and plant life, yes.”

“Oh, Hook, Hook.” The Insecticon leaned forward and nuzzled his forehead against the medic’s jaw. Hook had to fight the urge to recoil for a moment; Shrapnel wasn’t given to open displays of affection often and they still caught him off guard no matter how he enjoyed the other mech’s presence. “I know you don’t know what it means to us, us, this is a priceless gift, gift.”

Hook laid the data pad on his berth and reached out to touch, tentatively, the side of Shrapnel’s face. The purple and black mech hummed softly at the touch. “I would appreciate it very much if you would explain it to me.”

The Insecticon drew back, frowning. “I don’t know how to explain-plain. Not in a way that sounds normal, normal.”

“Try me.” 

After several long seconds, Shrapnel nodded. “When you say “stay with us, us” you mean what we do here on the Victory, Victory. I recharge in your quarters, quarters because it is easier, easier. But when I hear “stay with you in your base, base” it means that you make us part of your hive, hive. You take us in, in, you give us shelter and food, food. You have the stronger hive, hive, so we become part of yours, yours.”

Hook pondered the implications of that. He had always known that the Insecticons had a vastly different culture, but he hadn't ever thought that it would lead to anything like this, a blending of their respective families into a single unit.

He wondered what his brothers would say. He wasn’t about to give Shrapnel up. “That will not be enough to make me rescind the offer, I’m afraid. You, my dear, are stuck with me.”

The Insecticon’s worried frown twitched slowly upward into the most genuinely happy smile that Hook could ever remember seeing on Shrapnel’s face.


	7. Shrapnel III

“There are some things,” Hook said bitterly, “That I wish you had never introduced me to.”

Shrapnel shrugged and continued _carefully_ applying the nanite paste to the Constructicon’s burned spike. “I never told you to try putting your spike into a cityformer’s spark, spark.”

“No, but you gave me the idea of sparks and now sometimes it’s a craving that I cannot satisfy any other way.” The medic huffed and crossed his arms, careful not to tug his burned spike across the Insecticon’s claws.

“All you need to do is ask, ask.” The purple and black mech finished with the paste and pulled out a roll of finely woven mesh to wrap the injured appendage in. “I wouldn’t mind hunting for you, you.”

“As long as you can eat the evidence, I suppose.”

“Sometimes-times. I would rather keep you happy and undamaged-amaged.”


	8. Scavenger II

“Hook?” Scavenger’s was soft, almost timid.

Hook had to resist the urge to demand to know what the youngest Constructicon had done. “What is it, Scavenger?”

“Your, um. Your Autobot display is gone.”

 _”What?”_ The medic stepped away from his current patient--Skywarp would never even know his repairs had been delayed--and glared at his brother. “What do you mean my Autobot display is gone?”

“I saw when I was coming back from hunting coral for whatever it is Starscream's studying this week.” Scavenger ducked his head down, and Hook could see the faintest shiver of fear running through his tail. “There's drag marks on the floor all the way to one of the outside airlocks.”

“Someone _stole_ my Autobot.”

“Um, yeah.” The younger mech’s voice squeaked.

“I will kill Swindle _so slowly_ that he will wish for what I did to his lover.”


	9. Shrapnel IV

Hook watched his partner work as he relaxed into a plush chair. He wasn't sure what Shrapnel had planned for the drugged mech he was currently tying to the medical berth, but he knew it would at least be an interesting show.

“Do you want to keep him, him?” The Insecticon asked, resting his hands on his victim’s chest plates.

The Constructicon took a moment to study the mech Shrapnel had brought. He was plain, with short wings mounted to his shoulder and none of the grace a Seeker possessed. If this was a member of the Decepticon Air Force, it was one who would barely be remembered.

“No, I don't think so. He isn't my type.”

The drugged mech made a relieved noise, which made Shrapnel laugh. “How cute, cute. He thinks that means we'll be nice, nice.”

“I will enjoy watching you show him the error of his beliefs.”

“I hope you do, do.” The black and purple mech grinned before focusing his attention back on the prisoner. 

For a moment, Hook was perplexed at Shrapnel’s actions as he watched. His partner was playing his fingers all the drugged mech’s panel, clearly trying to tease the cover into retracting--something he couldn't understand at all, since Shrapnel didn't enjoy intercourse at all.

“Watch, watch,” Shrapnel reminded him, as the panel retracted after several seconds and the captive’s spike slowly pressurized. The Insecticon stroked it slowly, until the spike stood at full extension. 

Their captive panted with arousal and thrust sluggishly into the black and purple mech’s hand. 

“It's almost a shame that you had to drug him so heavily,” Hook remarked. “Can you imagine how beautiful he would sound as he panicked?”

“Another time, time,” Shrapnel said with a nod. “That sounds fun, fun.”

Then, before Hook could continue the conversation, the Insecticon lowered his head and took the bound mech’s spike into his mouth. Their captive thrust upward weekly in response and Shrapnel made no move to hold him down.

A moment later, Hook heard the sound of Shrapnel’s metal grinders cycling up and sighed happily. An interesting show indeed.


	10. Kickback

“Hook?” 

The medic turned at the sound of Kickback’s overly-digitized voice. The youngest of the Earth-bound Insecticons wasn't known for being on the Nemesis alone, to say nothing of stepping into the medical bay. His presence was both confusing and worrisome. “What is it, Kickback?”

Judging by the purple and black mech's flinch, his question had come out much more harshly than the Constructicon intended. “Shrapnel said I should come see you if I was hungry. He said that you would take care of me until he got here.”

Hook would, of course, because that was part of being a hive (which wasn't so different from being a gestalt, truthfully) but he wished his partner had at least sent a message to warn him. 

“Of course I will. Come inside and close the door so that none of those busybodies in the crew will bother us.” He waited until Kickback had followed his instructions, the continued. “I don't keep much in the medbay for any of you, but I have at least a few human made nuts and bolts you could snack on. Or we can ask Scavenger to bring you something if you prefer. I know that he has some larger scraps, and some human food if you prefer organic.”

Kickback’s visor lit up with interest. “Do you think he has popcorn?”

Hook wanted to disagree immediately--he remembered the popcorn incident with Rumble too well--but Kickback wouldn’t be shoving it into Seeker thrusters and Scavenger did need to get some of the organic food out of his storage space before it began growing fungus. “I will ask him. Please, make yourself comfortable.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've come to the realization that part of what makes this Hook (and Shrapnel) so horrible is the contrast with how kind and fluffy he can be with the people who matter to him. If he was all gore and necro all the time, he'd lose a lot of his badness.

**Author's Note:**

> I demand to know exactly when this 'verse developed plot.


End file.
